LIFE | I MUST REMEMBER TO “THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS”

Image source: Stephanie Ryan

It’s the last day of March, which means tomorrow brings with it the first day of April and puts me firmly in the month I’ll be having surgery. While this isn’t my first go at the rodeo (stomach surgery, gynecological surgery) it’s the first time I’ve had to undergo this type of medical procedure since our beautiful, wonderful, amazing, loveable (insert many more adjectives here the describe just how awesome he is) son was born, and I’m well and truly scared witless.

I normally live with a certain level of fear and anxiety. I’ve come to accept that’s who I am and I’ve given up trying to fight it and now I just manage it. It’s part of what makes me unique and what keeps me on my toes. But since the arrival of our boy I’ve just felt the panic rise.

I don’t want to leave him. I have become paranoid about dying. I have found myself racked with tears at just the thought of something happening and him having to grow up missing one, or both, of his parents.

It’s just crazy. I’m nearly 37 and I still have both of my parents and my Nana. Admittedly there’s been some dicey health situations but they’re all still alive and kicking (and reminding me that I’m nearly 40). I’m not sure why I’ve be come so fixated on the possibility that something could happen.

Every day I am so very thankful to have him in my life. So very very thankful. He’s amazing. I never knew that I would feel this way about another human being or that being a parent would be so friggin’ amazing. I love seeing him learn about the world, grow and develop, smile and laugh. I just love being in his life and I never want that to change.

Over the past month or so I’ve met so many people that have had their gall bladders out and Dr Google assures me that it’s a simple procedure, blah, blah, blah. I just can’t seem to quieten the fear.

Some times I find myself wondering if I’m mentally too weak to have had a child.  That the pure level of emotion involved in being a parent is too much for my system to handle. I feel like at any given point the dam wall will burst and all this emotion will just come spilling out.

Life is just too good and I don’t want it to end.

Image source: Jialia_382 on Flickr

Now I know that I’m being a rather big wuss about this whole thing, and while I was in hospital overnight I was shown repeatedly that my woes are insignificant compared to the things other people are going through.  It’s just my gall bladder for goodness sake! But it’s there, that black cloud of fear just pointing out to me how good my life is and how much I will miss should anything happen.

I want to be there to see him grow into the man I hope he’ll be. I want to be there to tell him (every 5 minutes) that I love him and that he is simply amazing. I want to be the one he comes home from school and tells about the adventures he’s had that day. I want to continue to laugh, hug, smile, cry, babble with him and his Father. I want 90+ years of us being a family.

I know that’s being greedy and I know that I’m luckier than a lot of people that are still out there trying to realize their dreams of having children and part of me wonders if I’m still carrying some residual baggage from the IVF journey. I just feel like I’m this crazy lady and that no one else goes through this kind of worry about not being their for their children.

And if I’m not alone why did no one ever say “Hey, congratulations on getting knocked up! By-the-way you’re about to experience a new level of fear, paranoia, anxiety and general emotional turmoil like you’ve never experienced before. But don’t worry everyone’s in the same boat, we just don’t talk about it because then you’d know just how crazy this parenthood gig really is and the human race would probably die out due to no one wanting to have children any more.”

I guess part of me figured that getting through the IVF would be the biggest hurdle and once we’d done that then I’d be home free when it came to medical issues. I guess I’d always had in the back of my mind that the medical experiences I’ve had in the past 9 years were all down to infertility and trying to get pregnant, I never actually made the connection that they were just a part of life and they’d still be here after we stopped the IVF. I guess I just never thought past the IVF… on a lot of levels.

A few years ago I consciously uncoupled (I don’t know who came up with this term, but I’m using it for everything now – such a nicer way to say divorce, or stopped, or gave up) from watching the news. I found myself unable to process the continual stream of bad news. It boggles my mind at just how much negativity is thrown at us every day in the name of “news”.  Seriously, it’s like we’ve made it our mission to share with people the worst of ourselves on an hourly basis.

I understand the need to be aware of global forces to better make decisions about governing, blah, blah, blah, but seriously, do we all need to know just how screwed up the world is on such a continual loop? Any, rant over, I stopped watching. I consciously tuned out. It’s been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Except for one little kicker, I think I’ve become more sensitive to bad news.

By removing the bombardment of bad news it’s meant that when I do catch the news it’s a little more potent then it used to be. I find myself crying more easily and reacting more strongly to what’s going on. I find I’m more frustrated at the disconnect between getting the information and being able to process and act on it. There’s just so many people in need, struggling and dealing with bad stuff and I just have no way of being able to positively impact that.

The proliferation of news and information has added a whole new dimension to my concerns and worry. Once upon a time I’d just worry about dying as the worst possible outcome of having to have surgery, but now I’m aware of a whole slew of things that could go wrong that don’t result in death but could seriously screw up your day.

Now I’ve stopped watching medical dramas – which is probably something my hypochondriac self should have given up a long time ago – and I’m avoiding like the plague any one who looks like they have a story to tell about a medical procedure going wrong. I’m trying to focus on the positive news and the positive statistics and counting my lucky stars.

I guess it’s why I love the creative community and being creative so much – it’s a positive experience. The tales of woe are few and far between and people are using their creativity to try and help people through difficult times and put some happiness out there into the world. I find the act of making is something that helps to quiet the concerns, worries and fears. It doesn’t make them disappear, but it helps to give me time to put them in perspective.

Being human is such a tangled web.  The older I get the more I marvel at all that we do, achieve and how amazing our bodies are. It’s a hell of a ride and at the end of the day I’m very thankful and grateful for however long I get to spend on the ride. I have to have faith that no matter what happens our son will know just how much he meant to me, how much I love and adore him and how much I wish for only the best for him. Not much more I can do other than that really…